


On Friendship

by HectorRashbaum (FifteenDozenTimes)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-06
Updated: 2008-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/HectorRashbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Broken people don't form the best bonds...but at Torchwood, that's all you have to choose from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> Since as far as I know there's no canon timeline for Suzie coming to Torchwood, I work from the assumption it was after Tosh, before Ianto (and she became second-in-command for reasons of personality, not tenure). Something to keep in mind! Mildest spoilers for Everything Changes, They Keep Killing Suzie, and Out of Time.

It had been easier than Tosh expected, getting used to Jack's rule about not ringing her mother. Sometimes she was even glad to not have to come up with a weekly justification for not trying harder to find someone to contribute to some Sato grandchildren. But Christmas was rough, hard enough for anyone to get through alone, never mind someone as close to her family as Tosh. Felt like sometimes all she had was her mother, and it was hard not to resent Jack for taking that away from her.

But she soldiered on, never one to let something silly like a little (crushing, all-consuming, physically painful) seasonal depression interfere. Jack was off, left early – well, anytime was early for him, Tosh was ninety percent sure he slept in the Hub – to mail the Christmas card Tosh had replaced her usual weekly postcard with, and then to do whatever it was the secretive heads of secret organizations did on Christmas Eve.

Tosh, for her part, intended to stay most of the night. When the misery got this bad, she knew she wouldn't sleep unless her body couldn't bear not to, so best thing to do was stay at work until she was only half-sure she could make it home without collapsing of exhaustion in an alley somewhere. The way she felt now she could make it to six in the morning or so, which was nice because then she could just sleep through Christmas.

She was so deeply engrossed in endless lines of code the clink of an empty glass coming to rest on her desk, followed by Suzie's voice, nearly made her fall out of her chair.

"Should've known I wouldn't be the only one with nowhere better to be. Drink?"

Tosh just smiled thinly and nodded, not really in the mood to deal with someone who thought sticking around Torchwood until all hours was an invitation to be social, but also not really one to be rude. Maybe the whiskey – and Owen owed her a fiver, he'd been so sure Suzie was a girl-drink drunk – could make better sense of this translation program than her sober brain could, anyway.

"So," Suzie said, taking her glass and settling in Owen's chair with her feet on a pile of papers that were probably too important to be sitting in such a haphazard pile under her feet, "you're here when I get here, here when I leave, and Jack won't tell me how long you've actually worked here, so...what, are you a robot? Something that slipped through the Rift and was too handy with a computer for the good Captain to slip back?"

It was truly awful whiskey; probably stolen from Owen, Jack had better taste, so Tosh most likely wouldn't collect on the bet. Suzie might have liberated the bottle, but Tosh wasn't shagging Owen on a semi-regular basis, so it was an easy guess who'd be the focus of any annoyance.

"Once you've been here a while, you won't have much of a life, either."

"Already don't. You think I'd be here if I did?"

Tosh just shrugged and turned her attention back to the screen, to seemingly endless rows of letters. Much easier to deal with than human interaction – sure, she couldn't figure it out right at the moment, but at least she could be sure there was a solution to be found.

"It gets lonely, doesn't it?" Suzie asked, after what could've been hours for all the attention Tosh was paying. "Always down here – sometimes it's days without talking to anyone other than you three. It's almost...well it's almost physical, tonight, isn't it? I can feel it on my shoulders, can - "

Yes, Tosh could, but she was here because she was trying not to acknowledge that she could feel it _everywhere_ so that was probably enough conversation. "I have a lot of work to do," she said, quietly, and got up somewhat abruptly to go involve herself in the mess that was the Torchwood Archives.

\- - - - - -

Drinking with someone, even a silent partner who preferred the company of the computer, was better than drinking alone – or at least that's what Tosh assumed, because the next night she and Suzie were the only ones at the Hub Suzie brought her a glass and filled it with that wretched whiskey (that had apparently been her brand of choice, not stolen from Owen). And the next, and the next. Tosh hadn't ever figured her for the kitschy type, but come the next Christmas she even gave Tosh a bottle in a little stocking.

They never talked much, and when they did the topic of loneliness was nowhere to be found. What stupid thing Owen did that day, who was Jack _really_, d'you think the new boy's here for a reason or is Jack just after some arse, stretched out over hours of silence until one of them gave up and went home.

It did very little to ease the isolation Tosh never felt she could quite escape, but it was better than nothing; some nights she even found herself looking forward to it.

And then it turned out Suzie was insane. And then it turned out she'd probably really just needed someone to talk to.

\- - - - - -

Christmas Eve, everyone was busy with John, Diane, and Mary, something Tosh was extremely thankful for. She was almost alone in the Hub (Ianto was around somewhere, but he could be counted on not to disturb her), so it was easy enough to go back to her old method of work until she couldn't keep her eyes open, then go home and sleep through the holiday.

When she opened her bottom desk drawer, she caught a glimpse of red – a stocking underneath a couple folders. A stocking, she realized when she pulled it out, containing a bottle of that horrid whiskey Suzie favored.

It didn't take long to dig up a glass, nor to check the CCTV footage to see Jack had left it there. Pouring herself a drink, she reminded herself to thank him in the morning.

She would, though, have to tell him something better than "I drank it alone while I wondered how many more people this horrible place could possibly take from me."


End file.
